“What do you mean?” she asked. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. He laughed at her heartily, and she laughed too as she had not for a year. But she found an unknown lady’s discarded garments, and selected some of those that she tried on, sending Kimble off down the secret passage to load them onto the horse she had borrowed—unbeknownst to its owner—from Father Saint-Simon. As he looked up at the massive tower, the clock tolled forth the hour of midnight. ‘Very well,’ he said, lowering his own weapon. Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative. Though the starling was more than two feet above the level of the water, he alighted with his little charge—which he had never for an instant quitted—in safety upon it.
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